Not This Time
by randomwriting
Summary: There's more than one way to drown. Post ep for Going Under. JC


Not This Time

Spoiler: Episode 5.2 - Going Under

First Story in the _Second Chance_ series.

Disclaimer: CBS, creators, producers, etc., own all recognizable characters, not me; I'm just borrowing them.

Not This Time

Sitting with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, Calleigh dropped her head and closed her eyes, letting the sound of the rushing waves flood her senses. Her thoughts were spinning, moving much too quickly for her to keep up with. She'd come here, her favorite spot on the beach, looking for tranquility, hoping to distance herself from the day's tumultuous events and the resulting storm of emotions she now found herself swimming in. Instead, the sound of the moving water had the opposite effect, transporting her back to the submerged hummer and those fleeting moments of terror that sent adrenaline mixed with icy fear coursing through her veins.

She bolted upright, shuddering as she did, feeling the momentary panic well in her throat and grip her insides. Fighting for control, she relaxed her body as best she could and concentrated on the horizon, hoping that would be enough to steady her erratic pulse and uneven breathing. Normally so calm and self-assured no matter the situation, this panicked reaction was most unexpected and unwanted. But on a day that found her careening into the canal, fearing for her safety while trapped in a rapidly sinking vehicle one minute, and in the next, standing face to face with a past she'd never successfully extricated herself from, self-assurance was, not surprisingly, in short supply.

Gradually, her heart rate slowed. A momentary slip in control after a trying day, that's all this was, she silently mused. Perhaps the beach hadn't been the wisest destination, but her intent had been to run along the shore, as was her habit on the days she escaped the lab before dusk. She'd sort through the mail and poke through any newly arrived magazines or journals while sipping on a tall glass of real sweet tea. And, because she usually worked straight through lunch most days, she'd pick at a whole-wheat bagel topped with a smidgen of jam and cream cheese. After changing into running attire, she'd drive the 15 minutes to the small beach closest her apartment for a 45 minute run. It was a routine she followed whenever she could, liking the comfort that came from consistency, but unfortunately, her job, being what it was, didn't allow for many days that ended before nightfall.

Today, however, she skipped her routine, fearing even a minute alone in her apartment would find her drowning in memories she wanted no part of. Hence, she'd changed quickly, tied her hair back without even bothering to remove the day's make-up, and headed for the beach. She'd hit the ground in full stride, bypassing even a cursory warm-up, a mistake she paid for 10 minutes into her run when her body cramped, sending her sinking into the sand. Now, as the sun began its daily descent, she found herself frozen to the ground, having realized too late that what you can't let go of, you can't outrun.

The distant shape of a cruise ship appeared in her line of sight giving her something concrete to focus on. Anything was preferred to the anguished face of Billy Gualt's widow. Seeing her reflection in that woman's pain filled eyes was more unsettling than anything else that had transpired over the course of the day, more so than her unplanned trip into the canal, or even her unexpected encounter with Jake. Seeing Jake wasn't the problem, but the resulting runaway train of emotions he unleashed in her most certainly was. A trip into the canal required a clear head and some quick thinking to save her life, neither of which could be counted on to save her from drowning in a sea of previously locked away emotions.

Her ears perked instantly at the sound of a Harley somewhere in the parking lot just over the hill from where she was sitting. There was no mistaking the familiar sound, she'd have recognized it even had she hadn't been around the bikes all day. Tilting her head slightly, she listened intently as the sound drew closer. She felt the prickles on the back of her neck at the same time the engine cut out. _Jake_. That unwelcome, yet familiar, tingling sensation told her who was perched atop that bike without needing to turn around. _Jake_. All this time later, and he was still the only man who sent shivers racing down her spine with just his presence. No matter how much time passed, her heart still skipped a beat, and her breath still caught in her throat whenever he was around.

Unable to resist any longer, she casually swerved and watched as he made his way towards her. Jacket in hand, he sauntered confidently across the beach, as if he had expected her to be there waiting for him. One corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile and unconsciously she mirrored the movement with a small smile of her own. Their eyes met and for a long moment, she was powerless to look away till her good sense intervened. Determined not to let him get under her skin, she turned her back to him dismissively.

Reaching her plot of sand, he dropped beside her with ease, leaving little room between them. In silence, the pair sat shoulder to shoulder, while she kept her gaze trained on the waves, and he kept his trained on her. Shivering, she clutched her arms tightly across her chest knowing her shivers had little to do with the outside temperature and everything to do with him.

"You don't seem all that surprised to see me," he said with a sly smile.

Leaning back, she swiveled to face him and returned his smile."Well, you've been turning up all day like a bad penny, so I guess I've grown used to it," she teased in her lilting drawl. "But seriously Jake, why are you here and, more importantly, how did you know you'd find me here?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She eyed him curiously, although something told her she already knew the answer to that question. "Please don't tell me you've been following me," she admonished, not bothering to wait for his response. He dropped his eyes and smiled guiltily, all the answer she needed. "I never saw you, or heard you," she said with a slight shake of her head, wondering how she managed not to pick up on the fact that he'd tailed her.

"You weren't supposed to," he answered matter of fact.

She turned away, exhaling in agitation as she did. "Well, I should have," she said mainly to herself. Twice in one day she'd been caught unaware on the road. Different scenarios, yet both had resulted in their own unique set of consequences. She'd come out of the first one intact, or as Horatio had so eloquently put it, the evidence had been compromised, but she, fortunately, had not. Now she was left wondering if she would be able to say the same thing about this second one.

Leaning back in the sand, he propped himself up on his elbows, making no attempt to hide his amusement from her. "What can I say? I'm good at what I do."

Tossing her head back, she shot him a disapproving look. "I don't appreciate being followed," she said firmly. Irritated, she turned away, but not before catching his gaze as his eyes traveled slowly and seductively over every inch of her.

"Well then, maybe you'd like to take me down and slap the cuffs on me again," he said, raising himself up from his elbows and moving ever so closer in the process. "I could let you do that. You did seem to enjoy it an awful lot." He paused at the same moment she swiveled, and raised her eyes to his. The words hung in the suddenly heated air between them. Bringing his hand to her face, he pushed a fallen strand of hair off her cheek, and gently tucked it behind her ear. "But then if I remember correctly, you always did like to be on top, didn't you?" She closed her eyes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks at the image his words conjured up, but made no move to back away. Instead, against her better judgment, she allowed his fingers to linger on her cheek far longer than necessary.

Exhaling sharply, she let out the breath she'd been holding. "I'm serious, Jake," she said in her most authoritative voice despite her quivering insides. His arrogance was maddening, but did little to lessen the sparks of desire.

"I know you're serious, and so am I," he agreed, looking anything but. "Course, you know that here, with no one around, I'd have you flipped onto your back before you knew what was happening. 'Cause I like being on top," he smirked, leaning in even closer. "But you probably remember that, don't you?" he asked suggestively. He hovered so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face, not to mention the heat from his body that caused trembles in hers. Willing herself to hold steady, she realized how much easier dealing with Jake was when a table separated them. Even without the lack of a comforting barrier, history would not repeat itself. Not today. Not if she could help it.

"Jake," she said flatly, withdrawing from him. But she was too late; he'd slipped his hand behind her neck, reaching up to release her hair from the elastic that restrained it.

"I like it better down," he said as he smoothed her hair, getting his fingers tangled in the process.

"Jake," she said with irritation, trying again to get his attention. Catching his eyes, she attempted her best _I mean business_ look, only to be met with a lopsided smile that melted her resolve without fail each and every time he flashed it. Nonetheless, it appeared he'd gotten the message, because he promptly withdrew his hand from her locks and sat back in the sand with his knees raised. She sighed, feeling a different kind of tension settle between them. After waiting a moment to regain her composure, she repeated her earlier, and still unanswered, question. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, dropping his smile.

Feeling another surge of irritation, she narrowed her eyes and tightened her jaw. "You can't really be thinking that seeing you today has bothered me any, can you?" she asked with indignation.

"No, not at all." There was a glint of humor in his eyes, but his expression remained otherwise unchanged. "I was concerned because of your accident earlier today. You didn't just get run off the road, Calleigh, you ended up in the canal," he said with a slight shake of the head. Her eyes widened slightly at the concern now visible on his face. "You left out that part when you told me earlier."

"You saw me several times today, obviously you could see I was fine," she said defensively.

"Yeah, true enough, but you know how sometimes things can affect you after the fact and when you least expect them," he started.

"You needn't have worried," she interrupted. "I'm perfectly fine, no ill effects from the accident whatsoever. The case is closed and the events of this day can be put safely in the past where they belong," she told him in a tense, clipped voice, wanting the subject dropped. _Exactly where you belong_, she wanted to add.

"Well, I'm still sorry that happened to you, Calleigh. And I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you when you asked for it," he said quietly, lowering his head. She wondered then, if his failure to once again step out for her, and the subsequent guilt his inaction caused, was the real reason behind this visit. But, as it usually turned out whenever Jake was involved, it was a case of too little, too late.

"No, you didn't help me," she said with a tight, forced smile. "And fortunately, I didn't need it." Enveloped in a thick silence, each was lost to their thoughts. She shuddered when a light breeze caught her off guard, setting off a new round of shivers. If only things had turned out differently, she thought sadly, as she clutched her arms tightly.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you," he said, breaking the silence. Tilting her head to the side, she looked up at him in confusion. "For clearing me in Ken's murder."

"No need to thank me. I was just doing my job, something I happen to be good at." She tossed her hair, remembering it was now free of the elastic. Absently, she ran her fingers through it, ever conscious of the way his eyes followed her movements.

"I never doubted that," he said, lowering his head. "But I told you I didn't have anything to do with his murder. I told you someone must've taken my gun," he emphasized, looking up at her from underneath a fringe of dark lashes.

"In my line of work, I can't rely on someone's word," she answered without emotion.

"Mine especially?" he asked, although to her ears, it sounded less like a query and more like a statement designed to provoke. The words were loaded, and their meaning, as well as his intention, was as clear as the dark eyes that bored far too deeply into the hollows she'd closed off long ago.

"Anyone's," she answered coldly, remembering another question he'd hurled at her earlier in the day. "_This isn't about you and me, is it?_" Her body stiffened, she knew what he wanted from her, but his wasn't a trap she was going to fall into willingly. "I'm trained to follow the evidence to get to the truth. The evidence is what I trust," she said, avoiding his eyes. "And only the evidence," she repeated very softly.

Trust, not a concept she wished to hash over with Jake. She sniffed at the idea and wisely he remained silent. He'd had her trust once, but that was long ago, before the word had been rendered meaningless. Trust given freely and broken just as readily, is forever altered. She'd learned and relearned that lesson enough times by now to have earned herself a lifelong pass.

Chancing a glance in his direction, she found him concentrating on a rock he kept turning over in his hand. Silently, she watched, unable to divert her eyes away from the hands she'd cuffed earlier in the day. Strong, lightly calloused hands with an almost painfully soft touch, one that in her mind, she could still feel slowly tracing her curves as if it were yesterday. Quickly, she banished the thought. The last thing she needed was to add fuel to that already stoked fire. Her gaze, though, remained exactly where it was. Why with Jake, she wondered, did her every emotion sit just beneath the surface, like shards of broken glass able to poke through even the toughest layer of skin?

"You are as good at what you do as I always knew you would be," he said, startling her. "And just as strong as I remember." Clenching the rock in his hand, he sat up and turned towards her. "I still think about you," he went on before she had a chance to react.

"Well don't," she answered hastily and much too harshly.

"Not that easy," he said with a slight laugh. His mouth formed a tight smile and he gave his head a slight shake. "Maybe if I could, I would," he said, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

"I think the evidence would say otherwise," she said with cool authority, despite the rising uneasiness his scrutiny caused. Turning a shoulder to him, she absently dug in the sand with the toe of her sneaker, chiding herself over how easily he stirred her up. No one penetrated her thick layers of protective armor the way Jake did, but then no one had ever captured her heart as wholly and as effortlessly as he once had.

"Maybe yes, maybe no, you have no way of knowing," he answered enigmatically. She turned back to face him, composed and armed with a retort that minced no words, but was stilled by his expression. Long used to the self-satisfied countenance he usually wore, she was unnerved by the undisguised longing that filled the brown eyes staring back at hers. The effect was the equivalence of turning her inside out. Afraid her eyes mirrored his, she turned abruptly from him, training her sight back on the horizon, resplendent now in the tropical shades of sunset, while an edgy silence fell over them. He heaved the rock he'd been clenching, and she watched as it hit the water, keeping her eyes fixed on the site of impact until long after the last ripples disappeared.

"You cold?" he asked, pulling her from her jumbled thoughts. Instinctively, she looked down at her arms, clasped tightly to her chest, unaware she'd been shivering again. Must an after effect from her earlier exposure to the chilly canal water, she thought, although she highly doubted that was all it was. "Want my jacket?" he asked, holding it out to her.

"No," she said, shaking her head vigorously. "Thank you, though. I'm fine, really," she said, giving him a half-hearted smile. He looked doubtful, but seemed to know not to press it further. _I'm __fine,_ she repeated silently, hoping if she said the words often enough she'd believe them herself.

"Calleigh," he said softly. She turned at the sound of her name, finding herself mere inches from him. Her eyes focused on his mouth and the slight curve of his lips that had always been her undoing. In spite of everything that had transpired between them, she wanted nothing more than to feel those lips against hers, and she tilted her chin upwards. His lips descended slowly to meet hers, a tender, feather light touch that sent shock waves through her entire body. But before she could fully give herself over to the kiss, the rational side of her brain intervened, and she swiftly pulled away from him. She turned her back to him and dropped her head, studying her tightly clasped hands.

This was not a road she wished to travel. She'd worked much too hard to piece together the shattered fragments of her heart to watch them splinter before her eyes. Gone was the naïve girl she'd once been; Jake no longer held that kind of sway over her. He wasn't going to hurt her, not this time. She'd bed down with loneliness before she'd give herself over to him.

"Horatio told me you've been reassigned," she said haltingly. Horatio had told her a great deal more than that. Accurately reading her worried expression, he'd relayed his own concern for Jake, as well as the shared words of caution he'd felt landed on deaf ears. Words she thought about now.

"Yeah," he sighed. "And that's all I can tell you. I'm sorry," he said resignedly.

"I understand." She nodded woodenly. "I should go," she said, rising hastily from her seated position. Keeping her back to him, she busied herself for a moment brushing the sand from her clothes. Straightening, she wheeled about to face him one last time. "Stay safe, Jake," she said, pushing memories of their brief kiss to the farthest reaches of her mind.

"I always do," he said, giving her his trademark crooked smile. She returned his smile with a tired smile of her own before turning and heading towards her car.

"Calleigh, you were wrong about me," he called to her back. "Failure wasn't the only thing I was scared of."

She stopped abruptly, feeling her breath catch in her throat and clenched her eyes tightly. The words hung stiffly in the air between them, as if waiting for some acknowledgement, but she didn't turn around. He wasn't going to ride roughshod over her heart, not this time. Feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, she continued on her way across the sand. He'd gotten all he was going to get out of her today.

The end


End file.
